Before September 11, 2001, before international terrorism made itself known with such striking effect in the U.S., America felt, in some ways, like it felt prior to the attack of Pearl Harbor:  apart.  Set astride a vast continent, separated from the world by two wide oceans, the nation sat, comforted by its industry and wealth, soothed by its ability to remain aloof from the troubles of the rest of the world.
     No more.  In a few chilling moments, the world exploded in America's face.  There were no more barriers, no more obstacles:  Americans had met the world.

     And could no longer escape it.  On the other hand, perhaps America was, in a peculiar way, at that point redeemed.  Perhaps America was set free (the essential meaning of the word) from the complacency it had nurtured over the decades, its blindness to the way that it is perceived in other parts of the world.  Perhaps 9/11 set America free to realize that it, and the watching world, could be more than the sum of its parts.  Maybe like biblical redemption, a redemption rooted in an unspeakable darkness that set humanity's hearts free, so did the darkness of that summer morning liberate Americans, and the world, to see that, yes, there really is something more to life and existence than simply conquering them.
     Perhaps those black moments will help the planet to grasp anew what it is really here for.